Raging Fires Against a Scorched Sky
by rightxhere
Summary: Dean-Castiel . The talons from Lucifer’s angels had ripped into his flesh and his screams were met with blackness so cold, so empty, he hoped to God it’d bring the end of the world with it. Includes spoilers for the S4 finale.


**Title:** Raging Fires Against a Scorched Sky  
**Author: ** Demelza  
**Fandom: **Supernatural  
**Disclaimer:** The characters and settings from Supernatural belong to the CW, WB, and all its other owners. I am just borrowing them here to play with for a little while. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.  
**Rating:** O15  
**Genre: **Dark!fic, angst  
**Pairing: **Dean/Castiel  
**Spoilers:** S4's finale  
**Warnings: **Dark!fic, apocalypse, character death, swearing  
**Word Count:** 548  
**Summary: **The talons from Lucifer's angels had ripped into his flesh and his screams were met with blackness so cold, so empty, he hoped to God it'd bring the end of the world with it.

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The talons from Lucifer's angels had ripped into his flesh and his screams were met with blackness so cold, so _empty_, he hoped to God it'd bring the end of the world with it.

Regaining consciousness not far from the charred remains of Bobby's home where the unrelenting attack had taken place, nightmarish visions of fiery destruction splinters into Dean's mind's eye and he winces, nausea washing over him in an instant.

He can smell burnt, rotting flesh. The smell is unmistakable, so too are the never-ending screams from someone being tortured.

He looks around. His vision is blurred, the spinning in his head reminiscent of the times he'd drunkenly staggered in through countless motel room doors, wishing the fuck he could forget the world and all the shit in it.

The screams, though, they're muffled but unforgettable. Each cry sounding as though they were screaming out to _him_.

Why not? All of this shit is his fault. His, and _his_ _alone_.

Attempting to move, he stops and touches his stomach. His shirt and t-shirt are soaked in blood, but aren't torn. The wounds he's looking for aren't there, almost as though _they never had been_.

Confusion creasing his brow, he lifts his eyes to the scorched sky. The moon and stars are gone; there is nothing but blackness. It's then he realizes, it's only because of raging fires around him that he can see.

"_Dean._"

_Castiel. _Visions of the angel's torso and stomach ripped to pieces flood Dean's mind, his empty, lifeless eyes staring back at him.

He senses movement beside him. A chill rides up his spine and causes him to involuntarily shudder.

"Dean." A hand touches his shoulder and Dean's breath catches. He lifts his head, stares at the man standing beside him.

_Sammy._

Regret lies in his brother's eyes. He moves carefully, cradling a bloodied, broken arm. "Dean...I..."

Dean swallows, looks away and squeezes his eyes shut.

"I'm...sorry."

"I did this," Dean corrects him quickly. He looks at Sam, shakes his head. "I did it all. I started this. _Me! _What the fuck did he do? What the fuck did any of them do, Sam?"

"_You_ didn't do this, Dean! It was Ruby. It was Lilith and m-"

"The angels," Dean says, stopping him, his mind darkening as much as his tone had. "And all because of what? Because God loved _us_ above _them_?"

Sam doesn't answer.

Closing his eyes again, Dean can't stop his mind from drifting to the year past. Castiel had been expelled from Heaven after Lucifer had risen. He was sent to Earth as punishment for daring to stop those who were using Dean and Sam to bring about Lucifer and the apocalypse.

From then, it had been a year of firsts for now-human Castiel. Food. Drink. Comics. TV. Bad food. Porn. _Sex._

The latter causes Dean to sharply inhale, a rush coursing through him he'd experienced with anyone before Castiel.

_He _had been Castiel's first. Castiel's only.

And Cas?

He'd been Dean's.

And now, now he was gone. Ripped and torn apart by Lucifer's angels.

Slowly, Dean's eyes open. The screams he had heard, the screams he could _still_ hear? Were a memory.

They weren't of a stranger, screaming out to him. They were _his_.

_They were Castiel's._


End file.
